I jumped off his knee in delight, as I clapped my hands, exclaiming, "You old dear, let me see them, I don't believe you have got them!"
"Open that parcel there, and I must help you put them on," he said, pointing to a large brown paper package on a chair in one corner.
The end of it was there was a complete outfit, little low necked silk dresses, stays, petticoats, drawers, chemise, etc., trimmed with lace, and even silk stockings, and such beautiful little slippers with high heels and buckles of silver.
How his hands trembled as he helped me first to strip, and then to put on all this finery which quite fired my young imagination, and made me think of the possibility of yet being a real lady, as I knew I was beautiful. Even when quite naked it banished all ideas of anything wrong, I only thought the old parson was fond of his pet, and wanted to please me.
His hands wandered over every part of me, before the dressing was commenced, then when I stood before him, only dressed as far as my stays, petticoats, and drawers, he took no end of time turning me round and examining if everything fitted properly.
Then he began to tell me what a naughty boy he was, that I ought to play at being schoolmistress, and whip him well.
The fun of the thing took possession of me at once, and as he had often shown me a birch rod, and said he would use it some day if ever he found me a naughty girl, I knew the drawer where I could lay my hand upon it.
"So I will, you bad boy, I know where Tickle Toby is kept," I said, getting the rod out.
He took it from my hand, and said, "Now, Miss Phoebe, don't spare my bottom. I have been so naughty, and if you do it nicely you shall soon come to live with us, and be my schoolmistress very often."
Nothing would do but I must take his breeches down and birch him well, which at last I did, and he was so impudent, and tried all he could to irritate me by calling me "a cruel little wretch, an ugly thing, etc.," that I paid him out finely.
The scene always amuses and tickles my fancy even after all these years, and I do not know to what lengths we might have gone after a while, had not the poor old rector died very soon after, and so dispelled all my dreams of finery, etc., for a time.
One of my best qualities has always been secrecy as to what I did, so no one, unless it was Mrs. Wilson, even guessed at my game with the rector, poor old fellow.
The master of the workhouse was in the habit of inflicting personal chastisement on any of the boy or girl inmates who gave cause for correction, this I had long known and now felt quite a curiosity to see how he managed it, especially with the big girls and boys.
This could only be accomplished by hiding myself in a small ante-chamber which led into Mr. Watson's business room; there was a halfglass door with a curtain, which I could easily
draw on one side and peep. The further side of the master's room had a staircase leading to a work-room, so that each culprit entered at one door and was sent away to work by the other.
Mondays the girls were whipped, and Wednesdays he birched the troublesome lads or boys.
I suppose it was only natural that I should most wish to see a boy stripped, so the first Wednesday I could manage it I shut myself in an empty cupboard in the ante-room about the usual whipping time, and soon heard Mr. W and the matron, Mrs. Jones, bring a boy for punishment. The door was locked on the inside, and I crept from the closet, and pulling one corner of the blind aside, could see everything, and quite safe from being seen myself, unless they especially looked towards the door, even then I felt sure I could escape without being caught With what stillness I kept at my post! fearing that the least noise might attract the attention of either of them, but I had not much reason to fear, for they were both of them so much taken up with the business in hand, that they had no notion of thinking about espionage. Yet I trembled from head to foot, with an indescribable apprehension, not so much of fear as that I might see something almost too bad to look at, as I knew the master was such a strict man in carrying out his punishments. I could see everything, and a corner being broken out of one of the glass panes in the door, I could hear equally well. The culprit was a fine lad of about sixteen, and they set about tying his hands above his head to a clothes hook, high up the wall one side of the room, so I had an excellent view of him en profile.
"I guess you'll remember this for some time, or my name's not Watson!" said the master, almost grinding his teeth, he appeared in such a rage.
"Pray be cool, sir," said the matron, "don't let your temper carry you away, no doubt the boy's been very insulting to both of us, and well deserves what you will give him, only think of his calling you an old b-r, and me a bitch — indeed, when I'm so kind to every one in the house!"
Although she talked to him about being cool, she looked very Rushed herself, as she helped to pull down the lad's breeches, thus exposing to my view all the male paraphernalia of manhood, slightly adorned with a fringe of soft dark hair, evidently only recently just beginning to grow.
"Now he's ready for the birch," she said, with a chuckle, as she finished pinning up the tail of his shirt, and pulled the breeches quite down to the culprit's knees.
"Yes, I think it's my turn now, Simpson," said Mr. Watson, who had taken a heavy bunch of birch from a cupboard, "you will soon be sorry for your laziness and impudence, I feel quite kindly towards him now, Mrs. Jones, it's really wonderful how my feelings are soothed as soon as I take the swishtail in hand."
His face was quite changed from the angry look it had a minute or two before, as he took up his position behind the culprit, who had been strictly mute so far.
No more time was lost, Mr. Watson's soul was very evidently in his work — swish — crash — swish — crash — swish — crash — that is what the blows sounded like to me, as he gave a sweeping flourish through the air at each stroke. The third blow elicited a subdued wincing cry from the lad.
"That's it, why don't you give it mouth, Simpson, as you did when you abused me and Mrs.
Jones?" he exclaimed. "Does it cut you a little, my boy? Will you abuse us again, eh?'
This last was followed by a tremendous crasher, which drew little drops of blood from the wealed flesh, then blow followed blow, soon making the drops into little rills which fairly trickled over his buttocks and down his thighs, whilst poor Simpson's cries were awful to hear, mixed as they were with the swishing and crashing of the rod. How the poor fellow did beg for mercy, but all to no avail, the master was relentless, and cut away as if it was nothing much, jeering and lecturing the boy all the while.
Now my eyes fairly started, for there was young Simpson's affair sticking out rampant and redheaded in front of him, in fact I seemed to fancy that the boy purposely rubbed himself against the wall as every cut of the birch drove him forward, his cries ceased, and I could not make it out, but just then Mrs. Jones coming behind the master, put her arms round to his front, and unbuttoning Mr. Watson's breeches, exposed to my full view an enormous affair, nine or ten inches long, which she played with in her hands, passing them rapidly up and down the long white shaft, uncovering at every motion the ruby head of what looked quite a monster to me then, all the while agitating and rubbing her belly against his back as she did so.
It only lasted for about a couple of minutes, then I saw quite a jet of thick whitish stuff spurt from him right on to the boy's raw bottom, who evidently was unconscious of what was going on behind him, After this she buttoned him up again, and then Simpson was let down and cautioned as to his future conduct, and what he would get next time, then ordered to be 08 to his work, and sent away through the further door, which I have mentioned.
Of course I thought it was all over, and should have slipped away from my point of observation, had not Mr. Watson seized Mrs. Jones round the waist and borne her to a couch, kissing her, and putting his hands under her clothes till I got a glimpse of a splendid naked thigh.